a thousand times enough
God Quest Turn In!
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#1
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Heavy; everything felt heavy, the certain tone of despair and melancholy hanging over them like a shroud, like a veil, he couldn’t just cast aside. It gnarled and nettled deep within, where everything else that threatened to tear him apart nestled, where he refused to look and breathe and dwell. Finality pressed its wake into his shoulders, into the satchel, onto the weight of things bound to lift (but would they? Would they?). After everything, this was supposed to be the lighter part, the moments cascaded into something serene and tranquil. These were the tangible things like hearts, like souls, like limbs, and beneath vestiges of stars and moonlight, they moved, they maneuvered, across the fields, towards the shrine, the avaricious bitterness meant to flee. Meant to vanquish. Meant to unfurl away. But it didn’t; still there the closer they drew, until his lungs were bound by stifled breaths and he didn’t deserve to be here.

But still, it had to be enough. Words followed through, quests sunken into the earth, revolving around his mind and motions until they’d all been claimed. Not alone, because there’d been many immersed into it, friends and companions, allies and comrades, eager to assist their Shield. It only spoke volumes of her influence, of her compassion, that it was extended constantly in return.

When they reached the shrine, he dropped the bag of holding to the ground, opening the satchel to reveal and place the contents upon the loam, before windchimes and lanterns, before the sound of constellations and galaxies winding through his ears. There, five containers encasing their leaves – all varying stages of decomposition, from brand new life to decrepit, battered, browned fronds ready to flicker and fall apart. Next to those, were receptacles furnished with a bird bone, and fertile soil from the fields (and if he took a longer, harder look at that particular jar, it was only because Adam’s influence had spun its way from within), followed by the efas herb, and finally, the water from the oasis during a full moon, placed amidst its specified, crystal jar.

Then he stepped back, eyes on the shrine, then on her. He wanted to smile. He wanted to bask in their achievements. He wanted to solidify moments not flanked in agony or anarchy. But maybe that was all gone now; dispatched, warped, vanished from their seams. The beast swallowed down a length of bile coating his throat, ready? chiseling through their attuned bond because nothing else he had to say had formed words or phrases. They were clipped back, wingless. His gaze rendered to the skies then, and back, cast in whatever might he had left. Safrin, I have brought what you required.


--


Five Leaf Threads:
prevail - leaf very new
that bashes and breaks you - leaf slightly withered
look upon a ruin - leaf middle withered
for a scrap of armor - leaf nearly dead
near half-empty - leaf very dead

Fertile Soil/Bone Thread:
{seasonal event} dust and decay

Efas Herb Thread:
spit out the blood

Oasis Thread:
back to life

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#2
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
She rides along his shoulders, a scarf of brown and slicked-back skin, the otter easiest to be worn. Together they make their way through the fields, the girl trying to ignore the sickening rolling in her stomach as she considers the lives so recently lost. It is a difficult place to come to now, this land where she built her greatest achievement and watched a star go dark- but here, with him, she feels safer. The past will be with her forever, but now they'll move forward at last.

He stops to place his treasures on the dias and Amalia lights from upon his back. This quest, though for her, is his to accomplish; she is touched and awed by his dedication, enraptured by the things he has done for her. Always, she answers from her perch on the marble, feathers ruffled against the evening air. Anxiety and excitement thunders in her avian breast; she is ready, so ready, to feel her legs again.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying


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#3
'And more, it seems.' Safrin chuckled. She pulsed to life as she was wont to do, cloaked in starlight and moondust. Midnight radiated off of her like velvety waves as she looked at the two. Dew-drops of light seem to settle on her eyelashes as she blinks and they fall onto her cheeks. One might think them tears if not for the fact that surely gods do not cry?

'Hello my darlings. My sword and shield." She looks from Deimos to Amalia and then back again, choosing to speak out loud despite their current lack of ability to do the same.

"Your swiftness is impressive Deimos...in light of all that has happened." A hand, suddenly so very, very white, gestures vaguely before falling beneath the midnight hues of her dress.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 1,806
MP:
#4
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Safrin appeared, and for once he must not have erred – the uncertainty of everything else scratching and clawing down his spine. He only lifted his eyes at her chuckle, confused and muddled, no extension of laughter on his part. Bewilderment might have registered on his face, had it not been carved back into its reticent stone, anticipating some other sort of bombardment, a twist and turn of fate to schism and cauterize as inward scars. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe they were just faltering and flickering along, and his efforts bought them time until the next onslaught, until the next torture, until the next refrain. Thank you for coming curled through him, because she could have just as easily cast him aside for his part in the chaos. For not being adequate.

The subject dangled there, hanging like a noose. Adam. Peter. Coffee. Apricum. Death strung and stung along, and some left behind in caverns, because of their gall, because of their stupidity, because of a hundred other reasons ringing through his ears.  Initially, he hadn’t wanted to waste any time at all; had only paused momentarily to assist Sunjata in his own sojourns for Safrin, into caves, into debacles, into searching for dragons who hadn’t wanted to be found.

And here they were.

“Is it enough?” A spoken question in light of a thousand others.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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Posts: 1,949
MP:
#5
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
And now boys and girls, for a vast tonal shift.

For once the appearance of Safrin before her does nothing to lift Amalia's spirits. The awe, the wonder, the adoration and delight- it is all dulled beneath this newest, greatest pain, flooding out of the cracks that she finally has not been able to repair. Blank eyes regard the deity as she manifests, a flash of something wounded beneath them, but Amalia remains silent in the face of her greetings, unwilling or unable to muster a reply.

Instead she shifts, her body elongating, gold hair falling down her back, feathers retreating into skin. Her legs dangle uselessly over the white marble, pale and taunting in the light of the moon. You left me there, her lips don't say. You left me, and you rescued him.

It doesn't matter, she doesn't say, aloud glassy eyes dropping to the ground. Deimos' efforts, their attempts, her legs. It's not going to bring them back.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying


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#6
Before she answers Deimos, the goddess' eyes turn to Amalia. For a silent beat she studies the girl, galactic stare weighty and all-knowing. "No, it isn't going to bring them back. But then, that was never the point of it."

She straightens slightly, not wanting to have Deimos' moment hijacked but knowing equally that the bond between Amalia and the Sword was not so easily put aside for the sake of conversation. "Do you cease to water a field of crops because some die? Because your favourite flowers are torn up?" Safrin asks. "Will you throw away the work Deimos has done, what I have asked him to do, because your grief is so narrow-minded?"
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 1,806
MP:
#7
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The magnitude of it all layered and lacquered against them, and it was a tempestuous, mercurial storm brewing in the granules of loss. Timing off; everything wrong, fleeting, broken, splintered, fractured, and he didn’t know what to say in the wake of it. There were stings and nettles biting through the torrential requiems, and he didn’t know whether to hang his head or simply sink into the stone, encased in marble. Instead he simply listened, swallowing down the rancor, eyes on the shrine, uncertain of where to look or what to do. Amalia was allowed to grieve. They all were. Perhaps it’d been his own ambitions and aspirations for her to come, for her to be healed then and there, that had been the error. Too soon, too grave, too beleaguered. He’d wanted it to matter, and maybe that was just too late now.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,949
MP:
#8
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
She can feel the consternation in Safrin's tone, acutely aware of each word and the implications behind them. This is Deimos' moment, his triumph; it is selfish for her to make this about herself, her hurt and her anger and the ways she feels lost. Like a chastised child Amalia frowns; "I understand," she replies softly, not meeting the goddess's eyes. "I'll give you space, Deimos. I'm sorry."

And without another word the girl shifts and takes to wing, flying a comfortable distance away to shield them all from her broken heart.

{Amalia out!}
but she was much more afraid
of never flying


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#9
The goddess watches Amalia leave without a word, turning back toward Deimos. There is much she might say on the subject, but she leaves it. This is a moment of triumph for the Sword, and though death may leaden his heart, his strength has always prevailed thus far.

'Give me your hands, Deimos." So saying Safrin extends her own, palms softly glowing with starlight.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 1,806
MP:
#10
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

That is not- coiled through him before Amalia’s departure, because it hadn’t been his intentions, and this was unraveling into something else altogether. He swallowed down the rest of the words, because the one meant to hear them was no longer there. The Sword’s eyes flickered back to the goddess, but there was no feeling of triumph. There was no feeling of success. It was gone with Amalia, gone with Adam, gone with Peter. Shoulders broad but weighted; an assemblage of disaster always there, seemingly incapable of dwindling, of leaving, no matter how much he’d strived and tried. He still listened, an inaudible sigh scraping through lungs, adhering to her request with a lifting of his hands, watching, waiting.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts


Age: 1 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
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#11
Placing her hands upon his much larger ones, fingertips upon the muscles thereupon, the light that glowed slowly transferred to him. Deimos would fill it like a pleasant chill; a cool breeze on a hot day. An ice cube slipping down sun-hot skin. "I think perhaps she might appreciate it more coming from you. Place your hands upon her, and all will be as it was." Physically, her smile seemed to say.

What would come next was yet to be seen, and as the Sword had not asked, Safrin had not said.

"Now, the ring.." The leaves he had brought, the soil and bone, with all rise in a swirl. Dancing along a curve they spiralled aroundSword and Safrin as she held out an open palm.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,806
MP:
#12
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Light and ambience, a differing sway from everything else lacquered and stuck to them – pooling into his hands, curling and coiling over skin like the ocean, like the sea, like essences of frigid, glacial moments, spread far and away from here. It was an effervescence not meant for him, but he’d take it to her, to the Shield, to at least impart soothing, mending contortions to her body. He wasn’t sure what to do about her soul or her heart. So he nodded in understanding, then lowered his palms, digits tucking into his palm for a moment, lungs remembering how to breathe, mouth remembering how to work. “Thank you.”

The note of the ring had one hand sliding into a pocket, producing the box he’d kept and contained them within, eyes picking out the one he’d created for Amalia within an instant. Then, just as he’d done before, he raised it aloft to the goddess, for blessings, for things beyond his capabilities, the sway of the leaves, the soil, the bone (another fringe of regret, Adam’s efforts a haunting thing) surrounding and pervading.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts


Age: 1 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
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#13
She takes the ring into her hand, fingers closing around it. Pulling it towards her chest, the goddess closes her eyes and hums a single note as light flares warmly from within her chest. It radiates outwards, collecting in her palm and the ring too, though for now this is hidden. "I fear what happened with Ronin might have skewed how you all think of me. I have no power over death."

The light fades and her fingers open; the ring looks unchanged.

"Life, Deimos. That is my domain." So saying, starlight blasts from the ring as the goddess smiles smugly. "Once souls are in Mort's domain..." She shakes her head. "Better to stop them from ever going. Once a year, this ring has the power to do just that."



Stabilization Ring | Once a year, this ring will automatically stabilizer the wearer should they receive a life-ending blow. (If HP drops below 0 from one hit, the ring will cause the HP from that hit to stay at 1).
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,806
MP:
#14
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

He listened to her words, to the way Ronin’s alterations and rejuvenation might have pulsed and weighed down their thoughts: he hadn’t considered it, truly. Just that she had essences of life, things they’d scraped against and lost time and time again. He nodded, a comprehension, an modicum of understanding, not pretending to know, to apprehend everything she amounted to, or what any deity or herald corresponded amongst.

The ring itself though, seemingly unchanged, hardly altered, save for the starlight contorted amongst its sanction, would be capable of ceasing it – once a year. A gift, a consecration, an anointed moment, so the Shield wouldn’t succumb so readily again (perhaps; depending on how much she strived, how far she continually stretched her compassion, her efforts). It was a monumental effort and blessing, and hopefully it wouldn’t have to be entirely savored. “Thank you,” was all he could come up with again, and again, and again for the moment. Because he was grateful and beholden. “Better to stop them,” he echoed instead, a nod of his head. For all he’d ever tried – for all it hadn’t mattered. Maybe this would.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts


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